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  • I stand over him


    Wondering just what

    He is like

    On the inside.

    Not his mind.

    Not his soul.

    But inside his skin.

    Within his liver,

    His kidneys,

    His lungs.

    Between the ropes

    Of muscle,

    And tendon.

    Like DaVinci,

    I yearn

    To separate the

    Layers of fat

    And look beneath

    To the glory

    That is man

    And woman.

    To watch the colors

    Of life

    As it flows

    Out and down.

    The knife hangs

    In my hand,

    Burns the delicate flesh

    Between finger

    And thumb.

    My grip tightens.

    Nervous with desire

    To see

    The unexplored universe

    That is asleep

    Before me.

    I step forward

    But my feet

    Do not move.

    It thuds

    To the floor as

    A voice pushes

    Between my thoughts.

    Dispelling desire.

    Ice water on blood lust.
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